


Hanging On

by ElleMartin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Flying, Hermione rides Draco's broom, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 20:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16604747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleMartin/pseuds/ElleMartin
Summary: Draco gives Hermione a flying lesson. Post-war, 8th year one shot inspired by the video of Tom and Emma on Instagram.





	Hanging On

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to i_was_botwp and AlexandraO for your alpha/beta help! They are both amazing authors in their own rights, so please check them out if you haven't yet.

“Easy with the wobbling, Granger, you’ve got to keep still!” 

 

“I am!”

 

“You are not,” Draco said, laughter lacing his voice as it carried across on the wind. “You’re dancing around back there like a clown! Hang on tight, I’m going to take us through a quick dive!”

 

“Hanging on,” Hermione said. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched the firmness of his waist in her fingers, and prayed there wouldn’t be bruises later. “ _ Granger, look what you’ve gone and done now _ ,” he’d say. “ _ You’ve marred my perfect skin! _ ” He’d probably even lift his shirt to show her. On second thought, that might be worth it. She dug her fingers into his waist even tighter as the broom began a spiraling dive that wrenched a small shriek from her lips. Her eyes cinched shut in defense against the stinging wind slamming her face. 

 

“So, are you feeling comfortable on the broom yet?” Draco asked as they finally and blessedly leveled out a few feet from the ground. He led the broom into lazy circles as they hovered.

 

“I’m not sure if one can ever truly be comfortable with a piece of wood stuck in their arse.” She squirmed a bit on said piece of wood while he laughed. 

 

“Ah, but Granger, I thought you had years of practice with a stick in your arse!” 

 

“Oh, ha ha. You’re so very witty.”

 

“I really am.” He turned his head to give her a toothy grin. “Do you want to go back up, or are we done with today’s lesson?”

 

“Keep flying,” she said. “Just no more death-defying stunts.”

 

“You asked me to help you not be so afraid to fly anymore,” Draco said. “The best way to do that is to face your fears.”

 

“I have faced enough fears these last few years, thank you very much.”

 

“We all have.” 

 

The mood between them turned somber as they climbed back upwards, levelling out just above the trees, then floating along at a leisurely pace. Hermione rested her head on the spot between his shoulder blades so that she could concentrate on something other than how far from the ground they were, and wrapped her arms around his waist with her hands resting on his chest. Draco seemed to hesitate for a moment at the intimacy in her touch till he reached one hand up and laid it atop hers. 

 

It had been this way for months now, forever dancing a tango on the line between friendship and flirting. Hermione knew that something would have to give, and honestly, she hoped it would happen sooner rather than risk losing their chance. She’d already messed things up once before by thinking a boy that was a friend could be a boyfriend. She didn’t want to make that same mistake again. Draco felt different than Ron though. She didn’t feel as though she had to guess so much as to where his feelings lay. It just all seemed to be a matter of who would take that leap first.

 

“I’m glad you came back this year,” Hermione told him quietly. 

 

“Me too. I’m glad you decided not to hate me when you saw me on the train.”

 

“Like I said then, I never truly hated you no matter how many reasons you gave me for why I should.” 

 

“I was an idiot.”

 

“Draco, we’ve talked about this,” Hermione chided. “It doesn’t make you an idiot to believe your parents and elders. What matters is that you’ve stopped believing that.”

 

“We were children, Hermione, and they dragged us into their war.”

 

“I know.” Hermione couldn’t tell if the tears she was blinking away were from the seriousness of the moment or the wind. Maybe both. “I lied to you,” she blurted out.

 

“What? When?”

 

“When I asked you to take me flying,” she said. “I told you that I wanted to get over my fear but that wasn’t the whole truth.”

 

Draco was quiet before saying, “Is this when you confess that you really just wanted an excuse to get up close and personal with me?” The laughter was back in his voice, and Hermione blushed as she pulled away. “Get back here, I was kidding,” he said, tugging on her arms before she could disentangle herself. “I quite like the warmth. It gets cold here in the clouds, you know.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’re not in the clouds, thank God.”

 

“We could be in a matter of seconds.” His hand twitched the end of the broom up, and they darted ever higher.

 

“Draco, no!” Hermione squealed. 

 

Her nails dug into his chest, trying to find purchase so that she wouldn’t go sliding off the back of the broom and plummet through the forest below. With a chuckle, Draco righted the broom quickly, and soon they were back to their lazy cruise with the tips of their shoes dancing through the tops of the pines. They skirted around the side of a hill, and the Black Lake spread out before them, sunlight turning the surface into glittering diamonds. 

 

“Wow,” Hermione breathed.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Feel like touching down for a bit? Looks like a good spot over there.” Hermione pointed at a tan stretch of sand along the banks of the lake. 

 

“Good eye, Granger, hang on then.”

 

“Hanging on,” she said with a grin.

 

The landing was smooth, and they settled onto the sandy shore. Hermione eyed the broom as Draco laid it down next to them. Was she brave enough yet to attempt steering the thing herself?

 

“So what did you lie about exactly?” Draco asked causing Hermione’s cheeks to flame. “C’mon, Granger. Out with it. The longer you take, the more I will think that this was all a ruse to spend more time with me.”

 

“Would that be such a bad thing?” she muttered lowly to herself. 

 

“No, it wouldn’t,” Draco answered, startling Hermione. “If I didn’t enjoy spending time with you, I wouldn’t do it. My time is pretty valuable you know.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course. I assume you’ll be billing me for these lessons?”

 

“I’m sure we can figure out something,” he said with a wink. Hermione looked away quickly lest her cheeks become permanently tomato-shaded. 

 

“Real witches fly on brooms,” she said quickly to cover her embarrassment.

 

“What?”

 

“Real witches….” She sighed, trying to figure out how to explain this properly. “Growing up, Muggles have pretty clear images of witches in their fairy tales and movies. Witches wear pointy hats, black dresses, and they own black cats as their familiars. Sometimes ravens, but usually black cats. They may be green-skinned, ugly, have a long, warty nose, but one thing always holds true: they ride brooms to fly.  _ Real _ witches fly on brooms.” 

 

“Oh, Granger…” He hadn’t missed her emphasis on the word “real”. 

 

“When I found out that I was a witch, it was the most amazing day of my life,” she continued. “Though I was a bit worried about turning into an ugly, old green hag too.” They both laughed at the thought. “Thankfully I saw Professor McGonagall, and, well, she looked perfectly normal, minus the robes and pointy hat of course. But now here I am; I’ve been a witch for eight years. I’ve got the wand, the cauldron, worn the black, pointy hats. I’m still waiting on my black cat. Maybe that’ll be my leaving present to myself. Give Crookshanks a brother or sister. Flying though…”

 

She took a moment to pause. Could she tell him one of her biggest secrets? Could she trust him this much? This same time last year, they had been on opposing sides of the war…. What did she really have to lose? It was a pretty childish secret in the grand scheme of things.

 

“I failed flying lessons first year,” she said. 

 

“Did you really?” 

 

She glared at his attempts to conceal his laughter. “At least it wasn’t a graded class! But, yes. It’s the only class I’ve ever failed in my life. I can apparate anywhere without splinching myself. I have flown on the back of a thestral. I’ve even flown on the back of a dragon. But…”

 

“But real witches fly on brooms.”

 

“Yes.” She peeked up to see his reaction to her full confession. Would he find her silly? 

 

“Ah, Granger.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

That wasn’t what she’d expected. “You’re sorry? For what?”

 

“For myself and anyone else who ever made you feel as though you weren’t a real witch.”

 

“No, Draco, this isn’t-“

 

“Hear me out, because this is a long time in coming.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he determined the best way to say this. “You are a real witch. Trust me on this. I’ve seen firsthand what you are capable of, and Granger… there are plenty of ‘real’ witches that do not have even half the power that you do.”

 

“Thank you Draco.” She smiled up at him through watery eyes. “But you misunderstand me. Yes, it has been hard that since the day I entered this world I’ve been surrounded by so many telling me that I don’t belong, I won’t pretend that it wasn’t. But this- the flying thing? That’s for me and no one else. It’s to appease those crazy Muggle fantasies that I had as a girl about what a real witch would be like.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes to study her. “You’re sure?”

 

“Yes, Draco, I’m sure.”

 

“Granger, I- I mean it. I mean… Hermione. I meant what I said. Every word. You. Are. A. Real. Witch.”

 

Their eyes met, and they sat there like that, hanging on to that moment; neither one moving, neither barely breathing. Hermione knew that this was the proverbial “it”; the moment that would make them or break them. Would they dare to cross the line from friendship to more? If so, who would be the one to make that move? In the end, she couldn’t remember which one of them was the first to lean in, to put their hands on the other’s neck or maybe their shoulder, to touch the other’s lips first. It may have even been a simultaneous move on both their parts. All she knew was that their lips met. 

 

That first kiss between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger on the sandy banks of the Black Lake, hidden away from the prying eyes of any fellow students or teachers was soft and full of heavy-lidded hesitation and need. There were no fireworks, no ringing of bells, but they both knew that this was a kiss that needed to be continued. So continue they did. 

 

They broke apart for the briefest of seconds before coming together again with a hunger that the prior kiss had not contained. Hermione wound an arm around Draco’s neck, and pulled him closer to her so that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. She needed to taste him. She needed to feel everything. She needed, she needed… 

 

She felt Draco’s hands touch down lightly on her back as he too pulled her in close. His tongue ran the length of hers, and her breath caught in her throat. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip, pulling an audible groan from deep within him. Given the intensity of the moment, she was completely caught off guard when he pulled away.

 

“Granger, I…”

 

_ Oh no.  _ Her heart sank.  _ Please don’t say this was a mistake. Please, please, please… _

 

“Granger, these last few months, being back here, with you, after everything that happened… how do I say this?”

 

_ Please _ .

 

“I was so broken, Granger… Hermione. So, so broken. Now, with you… it’s like you’re helping to put me back together. Like you’re holding my broken pieces. And Granger? Hermione? I need you to hang on tight till they fit right again.”

 

Oh. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in. His forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed. 

 

“Alright, Draco,” she said. “I’m hanging on.”

 


End file.
